Tonight Is All We Have

p r o l o g u e

It was one of the most important days of my life, but all I could think about was the phone call.

As I dug in the laundry basket for a pair of my black jeans, my mind turned over and my thoughts spiraled into darkness until a headache began pounding the back of my head. I didn't want to think about it, but Mom's closed door at the end of the hall spoke volumes of my mindset as I entered this once-in-a-lifetime chance.

Finally having found my jeans, I walked down the hall and hesitantly knock on Mom's bedroom door, and when she opens it, my heart sighs in relief. Mom is wearing a sweater and black jeans, and her hair is brushed into a loose ponytail. However much I'd hoped that she'd dress up, look like the other mom's who sat anxiously in the first row, I was glad that she was coming at all.

For the tragedy which rocked our home and broke our family into pieces had occurred just a day before, and we were far from recovering. It would take months, I told myself on the way to the hall, but that wouldn't affect my performance tonight, right?

I told myself that again and again, repeated it like a mantra. I'll be fine. I'd play my piece better than how I'd practiced with Ms Perez. Nothing will go wrong.

But when one of the judges, the one with the fiery red hair and kind brown eyes had called my name, I walked up the stairs with shaky knees and a nervous smile, the kind which is more like a grimace. I didn't look at the sea of faces that were probably drilling holes into my back, or the other pianists who were waiting their turn.

Their audition which would gift them a chance to play on a world-class stage.

I slid into the seat of the piano, and after the judge smiled at me, I began to play. I'd practiced a piece which was challenging, which none of the other pianists that Ms Perez taught could master. I'd chosen it because it was an emotional piece, high and low, depicting times of pain and tragedy and those were the emotions I did best.

However, when my fingers slid across the keys, I shut my eyes tight as memories filled my head, day after day of Dad bringing me for piano lessons. The days when he invested everything into my dream, the one he'd believed was possible.

And then I think about the phone call, and my mind goes blank.

I forget my piece. I lose control of the keys and the melody, the tune turns into something unmusical and raw. I think about the accident, a car colliding into another.

One lived, one died.

In a split second, I lost everything. My dad, the one person who was my whole damn life, was gone, and if he wasn't here, then why am I still playing? I ask myself, as the crowd begins whispering, fidgeting, pointing. I can feel the pity radiating from the row where my fellow pianists sit, but it infuriates me.

Who are they, to look at me with gazes filled with pity? I'm not something to be felt sorry of. I've got a beautiful Mom and a Dad who is my whole life, I feel like screaming at them. I'm not the one you should be feeling sorry for.

But I stay silent, and when I let my fingers linger on the keys of the piano, I let my dream go. I push it into a box and close it tight, push it into the back of my mind, somewhere I'll forget about it.

But when the kind judge asks me why I wanted to win the audition, I can't think of a single reply. Eventually they give up, and the judge's brown eyes are sad as she dismisses me.

I walk off the stage. Force myself to let my dreams go. Burn them, throw the ashes to the skies and cry, asking Dad if this is what he wanted, pleading for him to come back.

I watch the rain slide down the car window as we pass dreary sceneries, Mom echoing the words of my friends, telling me that I'd get another chance again. They don't say it and neither do I, but we all know that it's over.

And so I bury the memories, burn the musical notes in flames, set the different sheets of pieces alight.